


Boyfriend

by panda_shi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Ambitious But Rubbish, Best Friends, Drinking Songs, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Friendship, Hokage Hatake Kakashi, Karaoke, M/M, Pining, Please Help Yamato, Post-Naruto Time Skip | Naruto Shippuden, Songfic, This Is STUPID, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_shi/pseuds/panda_shi
Summary: “I am going to confess. In song.” Iruka nods, like he’s made a wise decision, his eyes on fire.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy, Umino Iruka & Yamato | Tenzou, Umino Iruka/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 15
Kudos: 51





	Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Self beta'd. Me and my garbage bag brain.
> 
> Song "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne slightly edited (boyfriend/a few words) to fit this trash.

Iruka had been miserable from the moment he had stepped into the party, regretting it the moment his feet stepped into bar-restaurant that had been booked solely for the purpose of Mimiko’s husband. Mimiko had been worried that most of the jounins they invited wouldn’t make it, and had taken it upon herself to invite some of her Academy and Mission Desk colleagues as well. The milestone age of 50 is no small feat in the shinobi world and Mimiko’s husband, if anything, is the definition of a survivor, having lived through several wars. Mimiko and Tadashi had splurged a little too much on the catering and space, wanting it to be a fun gathering, inviting pretty much everyone Tadashi had ever worked with through out his career as a shinobi.

One of those men, happens to be the object of Iruka’s hopeless crush.

Hopeless, because Iruka is too much a chicken-shit to do anything about it except bemoan and moon at how attractive Yamato-san is, how wonderful and polite Yamato-san is, how shiny the hair on Yamato-san’s head is and how broad and thick Yamato-san’s body is.

It’s pathetic.

It’s sad.

A twenty-seven year old Academy teacher shouldn’t behave like an prepubescent teenager with a going-nowhere crush, but well, there are some exceptions.

“Why don’t you just ask him out, already?” Izumo sighs, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time since they’ve arrived and attacked the buffet, watching Iruka roll the span of his forehead side to side on the table, a few shot glasses and beer glasses around him.

“And then get rejected? No thank you,” Iruka waggles his fingers, feeling around the table for a glass. He finds one, lifts his head, takes a long sad swing of its contents and then returns to rocking his head back and forth. “It is a _crime_ to be that good looking. Did I tell you that he smells good too?”

“About two thousand times, yes,” Kotetsu mutters under his breath, slouching on the chair and popping mini croquettes into his mouth from a plate that he has resting on his belly. “I know you’re all about being careful about who you get into a relationship with but this is stupid. You’re stupid.”

“He smells like laundry soap and cedar trees~ It’s wonderful~ I got a sniff of it the first time I met him through Naruto at Ichiraku. Do you know how hard it is—“ Iruka gets cut off.

“—to smell anything other miso base soup at the Ichiraku?” Kotetsu and Izumo choruses, clearly not hearing this stream of consciousness falling like word vomit from Iruka’s mouth for the first time. “We know!”

“He’s polite, he’s knowledgeable, he’s well respected and he’s—“

“Super hot,” Izumo and Kotetsu choruses again. “We _know!”_

“I hate him,” Iruka murmurs, thumping his head a few times on the table. “I’m tired of masturbating too him every night. And he keeps talking to me! He keeps being nice to me! Why can’t he be a jerk, for a change? Look at him!”

Iruka turns to rest one cheek on the table, his eyes trailing over across the room, where by the karaoke machine, Gai and Kakashi are having a singing contest, trying outshine the other, and there, standing with his arms crossed across that magnificent beefy chest is Yamato, dressed in dark denims and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, something that does not help Iruka with his tragic crush because Yamato’s arms is the best pair of arms there is in the entire bar-restaurant. Perhaps, even the village. He even makes the happuri look trendy, something that is a feat on its own because the happuri is so ridiculously old fashioned. It’s like wearing a metal plate on one’s face and yet somehow, it makes the slope of Yamato’s eyebrows even more handsome, accentuates the chiseled jawline like he’s been sculpted out of marble to pay tribute to the gods, the mild bob of his Adam’s apple quite a vision because, may the heaven’s help Iruka, he just want to sink his teeth into it and hear Yamato’s breath his through his perfect teeth.

His damn teeth. Who gets attracted to teeth?!

Iruka _sighs_ , the sound of it lost in the music that fills the bar-restaurant, as loud as thunder. The Rokudaime booming through the mic makes the cutlery on the tabletops rattle. The small stage-lights flashes like colorful sirens, illuminating merry faces of the cheering crowd who are applauding to the show of stardom their village leader is currently displaying.

Someone that Iruka doesn’t like very much. Someone who cock-blocks Iruka’s crush because Yamato and Kakashi are almost always together. There’s definitely something there.

Iruka didn’t stand a chance. Not against the Rokudaime, of all people.

“If he was, I doubt that’d put a stop to any of your fantasies,” Izumo rolls his eyes. “I’m going to get more beer.”

Izumo stands, abandoning the table, weaving through the crowded restaurant towards the bar.

Which is when Kotetsu decides to take matters into his own hands.

“What if you just do an indirect confession?” Kotetsu urges, straightening up and setting his empty plate of croquettes on the table. “Just get it out of your system because you’re clearly not going to do anything. You’ll feel better.”

“Yeah like what, call in Konoha FM and dedicate an anonymous love song to him repeatedly, hoping he’d listen? I might as well get on stage and sing my confession my damn self!” Iruka snorts, rolling his eyes.

Kotetsu goes quiet. For a beat. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” Iruka straightens up, picking up his beer glass and tipping the rest of the contents again. “Why are we here again?”

“Because Mimiko-chan invited us and she’s very nice and respects you, me and Izumo. That and I love the croquettes of this place, so…” Kotetsu shrugs, uncaring and clearly tired of Iruka’s tipsy Yamato-spiel. “We’re here for Mimiko-chan, so suck it up, sensei, or get on stage and sing him a damn song or drink your weight in alcohol. Maybe poisoning yourself will help you get over this two year old crush and put us all out of our misery. Half-wit.”

“You’re a fantastic friend,” Iruka says, sarcastically.

Kotetsu watches as Iruka props his chin on his pal, tilting his head to the side to stare at Yamato’s fine, ‘buns of steel in sexy denims’ as Iruka puts it and reaches out to clock Iruka upside the head. “I am entitled to call you whatever the fuck I want because I put up with you. I still do after two years! Here, have my beer.”

Iruka _sighs_ again but quietly drinks the beer.

*

“I am going to do it!” Iruka proudly announces, a flush on his cheeks as he suddenly stands on his feet like a gopher poking out of its hiding hole, straight as a flag pole, as if he’s about to sing Konoha’s national anthem.

“Do what?” Izumo pokes at his plate of grilled prawns, popping one into his mouth.

“I am going to confess. In song.” Iruka nods, like he’s made a wise decision, his eyes on fire.

“I dare you,” Kotetsu grumbles, uninterested.

They’ve heard this far too many times. Each time, Iruka would pull courage from whatever crevice of his body, declare his intentions and do absolutely nothing about it in the end. Iruka is probably, most likely, going to approach the stage and like the chicken-shit that he is, will return to the table and continue to complain drunkenly until he passes out.

Hopefully Iruka passes out soon or he’ll end up wondering he has a black eye in the morning. The punch would have been well deserved at this point.

“Okay! I shall proceed!” Iruka turns around and marches towards the karaoke corner.

Izumo and Kotetsu watches him go, watches as Iruka gets as far as standing in front of the stage, waiting for the song being sang by Aoba to conclude.

“He’s not going to do it,” Kotetsu scoffs, turning his attention back to his beer. Kotetsu continues to scoff even after Aoba completes his song and Iruka straight up yanks the mic out of Aoba’s hands, marches like a man with a purpose to conquer the world towards the karaoke machine and brutally punches in the song code like he’s hammering nails into wood. “He’s not going to do it.” Kotetsu repeats, just as the song _Boyfriend_ flashes on the screen, his interest now piqued.

“Oh…” Izumo says, the shrimp on his chopsticks plopping and rolling off his plate as a catchy beat starts to pump out of the speakers, Iruka’s face scanning the crowd intently for Yamato, who is currently at the bar with Gai and Kakashi, chatting. “Oh boy.”

“He isn’t. He won’t. He’s a piece of shit with no balls when it comes to Yamato—“

Iruka spots Yamato, plants his feet firmly on the ground and starts rocking his hips side to side to the beat of the song like a terrible, underserving of a stage sort of street performer. Iruka opens his mouth and in the most, clear, just slightly off tune voice that sounds nothing like Iruka’s voice, he begins to sing the lyrics, pointing _right_ at Yamato.

“Hey, hey, you, you I don’t like your boyfriend! No way, no way, I think you need a new one!” Iruka _belches_ out, the pointed finger going up in the air, swaying side to side like it’s an anthem before he brings it down to his chest, palms flat, patting it repeatedly. “Hey, hey, you, you I could be your boyfriend~!”

The crowd parts, all heads turning to the direction Iruka is pointing at and in a united chorus of ooohs and aaahs, and whoaaahs, they erupt into a round of rambunctious applause, catching the attention of Kakashi, Gai and Yamato, who curiously turn to what is going on.

“He’s doing it!” Kotetsu _screeches_ , jumping to his feet, head snapping to Yamato’s face that is currently set into what looks like confusion. “Where is Tonbo and his camera?” Kotetsu looks around, panicking.

“Shouldn’t we get him off the stage?” Izumo asks, gesticulating at Iruka who is now sticking his ass out like a bad porn star and pumping his hips to the song.

“Hey hey, you you, I know that you like me! No way, no way, you know it’s not a secret! Hey, hey, you, you, I want to be your boyfriend~” Iruka snaps his head back, one hand coming up and _yanking_ his ponytail free, the elastic band snapping with the force of the yank as his hair comes tumbling about his face. The crowd goes _wild_ , as Iruka starts tossing his head back and back and forth, side to side, thick, lustrous brown hair swaying in the wind as he sashays to one side of the stage and makes eye contact with Yamato, and then sings in the most lurid way possible, “You’re so fine, I want you mine you’re so _delicious~”_ Kotetsu and Izumo’s jaw drops. “I think about you all the time, you’re so _addictive~”_ Iruka sticks his tongue out, waggling it and then proceeds to jump on stage. “Don’t you know what I can do to make you feel _alright_ ~?”

Kotetsu and Izumo bolts forward, Izumo towards the stage to pull Iruka off it before he can do any more damage that he’ll regret while Kotetsu grabs Izumo prisoner in his arms, stopping him. “No! No! Let him get it out of his system, it’s been two fucking years!”

“But—“

In the crowd, Gai wheels his wheelchair away from Kakashi and Yamato, getting himself away from the direction of Iruka’s pointing. When Iruka doesn’t follow Gai, Gai explodes into loud laughter that somehow, seems to be louder than the booming mic and speakers, his hands applauding along the cheering crowd.

“Don’t pretend, I think you know I’m damn precious! And hell yeah, I’m the motherfucking prince, yeah! I can tell that you like me too and you know I’m right~!” Iruka does an air guitar with the mic, nodding along and tossing his hair back and forth, the crowd _roaring_.

“Is he singing to you?” Yamato asks Kakashi.

“Uh, I think he’s singing to you,” Kakashi points out and then, takes a step back, and another, and another.

Iruka then points very pointedly at the Rokudaime, “He’s like so _whatever_ ,” Iruka squawks, _rolling_ his eyes like Kakashi is nothing more that sludge leaking out of garbage bags. The finger then moves towards Yamato, where Iruka smiles like the hopeless moron with a crush that he is and sings, “You could do so much better~ I think we should get together now, and that’s what everyone’s talking about!”

Iruka starts pumping his hips like he’s fucking someone invisible on the stage a few times, teeth biting his lower lips before he starts skipping around the tiny stage like a pony in a field, singing out the chorus that the crowd is now singing along to, absolutely enthralled by Iruka’s extremely enthusiastic performance.

“Well, would you look at that?” Kakashi says, bemused as he puts very clear distance between himself and Yamato, who looks like a deer caught under a flood of sharp, white lights.

When Iruka gives the crowd his rump and bends over to then look over his shoulders at Yamato, tongue out and eyebrows waggling once he was done with the chorus, Yamato cannot help but shift his weight to his other leg, torn between being amused, embarrassed and just the tiny bit turned on. It’s a nice ass. Iruka bent over like with his hair down, a flush on his cheeks and looking almost wanton is a nice sight. He is not going to lie.

Except Iruka suddenly straightens, rolls his head twice and then proceeds to tap his feet on the stage, pumping his arms like a clown in the circus. Iruka halts. Sways his face in Yamato’s direction and then sings, much to Yamato’s embarrassment because gods, the entire party is looking at him now, like he’s some animal at a zoo.

“I can see the way, I see the way you look at me,” Iruka sings and points with his two fingers at Yamato and then brings those two fingers to his own eyes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, good grief, how drunk is Iruka? “End even now when you look away, I know you think of me! I know you talk about me all the time again and again~!” Iruka stops head bangs three times then sashays to one corner of the stage, strutting his ass like he’s modelling on a catwalk. Did Iruka like, do this kind of thing as a side job? Entertain bars? He’s incredibly confident in his steps. “So come over here and tell me what I wanna hear! And better yet make your boyfriend disappear!” Iruka _hisses_ , he glares, pointing at Kakashi, uncaring that he is the Rokudaime, before he waves his fingers away like he’s shooing a fly that happens to be Kakashi. Gai, the poor man, begins to weep. From mirth. While Kakashi stands there, slumped and looks deplorably at Yamato. “I don’t wanna hear you say his name ever again!”

“Why is he picking on me?” Kakashi asks.

“I don’t know senpai, shut up!” Yamato flushes, bringing his hands to his face and dragging it down to his chin, trying to not to melt on the ground from embarrassment when the whole bar erupts in a crow of, _oh, Hokage-sama!_

“Cause’ he’s like so _whatever_ ,” Iruka sings, opening his mouth and making gagging gestures, finger in his throat and all, that leaves Gai wheezing, and Kakashi putting his hands on his hips.

“Hey now," Kakashi protests, looking like he’s been kicked in the balls. 

“And you could do so much better! I think we should get together now, and that’s what everyone’s talking about!” Iruka _dabs_ , and then holds the mic out to the crowd, who begins to sing in unison.

“Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your boyfriend!” The crowd _roars_ , drinks in the air, the party turning to an outright concert.

Through all this, Yamato stands there rooted and frozen, helpless at this display of what sounds like a confession and envy towards him and a man that is not even his boyfriend! He and Kakashi are nothing like that. Sure, they’ve fucked a few times but that had been a long time ago, before Kakashi and Gai had gone exclusive after the great war.

Yamato watches as Tonbo proceeds to scale the bottom of the stage, catching the whole thing on camera, Iruka’s friends curled on the floor barely breathing from their laughter as Iruka proceeds to skip a few more times and then roll his hips, one hand dragging up his thigh, past his waist band and sneaking under his shirt like a stripper, all while looking at Yamato with an I-will-devour-you expression that leaves Yamato’s neck burning hot.

Iruka wraps up the song, mic and fist in the air, legs splitting rather impressively on the stage, lips pouting and something that can only be described as lurid, sultry, _hungry_ expression on his face. Yamato blinks rapidly when Iruka punctuates that expression by blowing him a kiss. Across the restaurant. At him. Very loudly. Smoochy and all, right there at the mic.

Oh gods.

The crowd _roars_ again, the applause deafening.

Yamato watches Iruka pick himself off the stage, suddenly demure as he bows rather shyly to everyone and walks away, breathless and flushed, hobbling towards the table, two of his friends crawling after him, where Iruka proceeds to plop himself on the chair, plop his head on the table. And promptly passes out.

“And that, my dearest friend, is your queue to reciprocate that most exuberant, youthful display of passion!” Gai crows wheeling himself towards Yamato, Kakashi in tow, the front of his shirt drenched with tears of mirth.

Yamato winces just the tiniest bit, his gaze brushing over Iruka’s passed out figure on the table. Izumo and Kotetsu are still laughing, trying to shake him awake, poking him with a cake-icing stained fork.

Iruka doesn’t budge.

“Right,” Yamato mutters, and with a little bit of horror, watches as Izumo gently sprinkles Iruka’s face with water via damp fingers being dipped into a half empty glass of water. Iruka still doesn’t budge.

“Didn’t think he had it him, I’ll be honest. Terrible singing but great showmanship,” Kakashi deadpans, before he claps Yamato on the back. “Go get hi.! He clearly wants you. Put a man out of his misery.”

“Senpai, you are truly unhelpful,“ Yamato sighs, setting his now very warm beer on the bar counter and shaking his head.

“Isn’t he?” Gai supplies, clapping his hands once. “My dearest Yamato, you must not take this tenacious display as insult to your person. Rather, take it as flattery for perhaps our dearest teacher may, when it comes to matters of the heart, be as tender as the first fall of snow! Delicate! Easily broken! Nothing but a fledgling—“

“Go,” Kakashi sighs.

“I’m going,” Yamato mutters, crossing the distance between the bar and Iruka’s table, leaving behind Gai who proceeds to shout with his full lung capacity, how Yamato is indeed, at the peak of his youth.

*

Yamato puts a stop to the glass that is about to be tipped over Iruka’s sleeping head.

Kotetsu’s eyes are wide when it trails up to Yamato’s figure, his mouth shaping to a large O of surprise. “Are you here to take him home? Please take him home! And fuck him later! Put us out of our misery! He’s been pining after you for two years!”

Yamato blinks.

Well.

That is quite a long time to be pining after someone.

Iruka has been nice to him, would always direct his full attention at him whenever they converse or happen to bump into each other within the village. They’ve even shared tea together a few times. But nowhere during _all_ of those moments did Yamato think that Iruka was attracted to him. It’s nice. It’s flattering. Iruka is attractive too. Quite cute with those dimples, beautiful features and whatnot. And well, after that stage performance, Yamato is forced to acknowledge that fine ass too. Something he hasn’t looked at because… well, it’s not like Iruka showed interest.

Unless Iruka smiling at him constantly is the show of interest.

Or his overly happy and pleased aura towards Yamato is the show of interest.

Huh.

Yamato clears his throat. “I’ll take him home.”

“Hey now, wait a second, no you’re not if you’re not interested, hands off.” Izumo _slaps_ Yamato’s hand away, shooing him off like he’s fighting off a bear, unaware of how tipsy he truly is, using chest and arms, and all. 

Yamato takes a step back, hands up. “Don’t worry. I’m interested.”

“You are?” They chorused.

“Yes.” Yamato confirms.

“Since when?” They chorus again.

Yamato doesn’t answer that. He just gives them a pointed a look that could mean a hundred things. Izumo and Kotetsu’s mouth hang.

Yamato ignores them.

He picks up Iruka like a prince picking up a princess in a movie, one arm supporting Iruka’s back, the other tucked under his knees, Iruka’s head lolled to his shoulder before he shunshins them both out of the party.

*

Iruka is hung over and grumpy the next day at the mission desk, nursing a headache that is the size of Konoha itself as he shreds old documents through the shredder. The steady whirr of the machine doesn’t help with the headache but at the same time, he can do this kind of thing until his body deems that its fit enough to face more shinobi handing in reports. 

Shinobi who, for some reason, keep looking at him and whispering.

Iruka is in no mood to find out why. He had checked himself ten times already. He doesn’t have anything in his teeth. His uniform is right and proper, ponytail in place. He looks presentable save for the slight bloodshot redness of his eye corners. He woke up in his apartment, on his bed, drooling on his pillow, assuming that his friends had probably dumped him there. In fact, he looks better than Tonbo beside him, who may have been asleep behind the bandage wrappings.

It's really hard to tell with Tonbo.

“So!” Genma suddenly says, plopping his ass on the table, senbon bobbing, startling poor Iruka that the paper he had been feeding into the shredder crumples and gets stuck, throwing the entire slightly emptier mission room to silence. “I heard you called the Hokage a _so whatever_ , last night?”

“What now?” Iruka mutters, scowling at Genma. He scoffs and turns back to the shredder, troubleshooting the paper jam.

“You. Called the Hokage. _A whatever_.” Genma repeats, slower, like he’s talking to an idiot.

He might as well have been.

“What does that mean?” Iruka grunts, yanking the stuck paper and throwing the room into a steady hum of blades rotating at fast speeds.

“It means, dearest sensei, you sang an outstanding performance last night, insulted the Hokage and then dangled your ass in front of Yamato. Like a piece of meat.” Genma chuckles. “I’m impressed.”

“Genma-san, if you’re here to make up unnecessary stories, you can show yourself out the door. Don’t let it hit you on the way out, please.” Iruka rolls his eyes.

From behind Iruka, Tonbo taps him on the shoulder, presenting him with a camcorder. Iruka stares at it, confused, even after Tonbo pushes it towards him and gestures at the play button. Iruka sighs, frustrated, turns off the shredder and hits play.

And wishes with every fiber of his being to die and turn to ash. Or sink to the bottom of the earth. Or something.

Iruka watches, as the color drains from his face, how his two friends remain useless at the side of the party stage, as he sashays and parades around the stage singing off tune and terribly, touching his stomach, rolling his hips like he’s riding cock and throwing his head here and there, hair loose – why the fuck is his hair loose? Why is he being allowed to gallivant around on stage?

Oh gods, he called the Hokage a _whatever_.

Oh gods, is that _treason_?

Iruka shuts the screen of camera, thrusting it like it’s a prickly cactus making his hands bleed right back at Tonbo, nearly dropping the device.

Oh no. Oh no.

“I’m going to _murder_ them,” Iruka mutters to himself. He’s going to strangle Izumo and Kotetsu. Kotetsu first because he would have without a shred of doubt encouraged this unacceptable behavior. Kotetsu first, indeed. He will pry his toenails off his fingers and toes and then stick him into a pit of fire ants—

“After our date,” a familiar voice says, making Iruka’s head snap up at the sight of Yamato, handsome, lovely, smelling like soap and cedar trees Yamato. Who is holding out a potted plant of… sunflowers. “You did say I could do so much better. So show me this… _better_.” Yamato’s lips cracks up just a smidge into a devastatingly handsome lopsided grin, something that makes Iruka’s heart bang at his ribs once like a gong.

Iruka _stares_.

And stares some more.

Well. Shit. Iruka brought this upon himself.

“How mad are you?” Iruka asks, cringing.

“I’ll let you make it up to me.” Yamato sets the pot of sunflowers on Iruka’s table. Yamato then leans over and whispers. “Lap dances are good too.”

Iruka’s throat go dry.

Well, that can be arranged.  
  


FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I NEEDEDTO GET THIS GARBAGE OUT OF MY HEAD.


End file.
